


Childhood Places

by Alaynes_Mirror



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-02
Updated: 2016-02-02
Packaged: 2018-05-17 22:23:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5887573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alaynes_Mirror/pseuds/Alaynes_Mirror
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A modern day AU exploration of what it would be like if Sansa and Sandor had grown up together, with each chapter exploring the two character's interactions at two different ages.<br/> <br/> <br/>* I played around with age in order to fulfill the purpose of the story!<br/> **Trigger warning for abuse. Since we're journeying into Sandor's past it means there will be mentions of abuse throughout, but it's not overtly depicted in the text.<br/> <br/><i>"There was a boy sat on the dusty ground, his head bent low in concentration over something. </i></p>
<p>  <i>Sansa had not seen him before, he had a messy crop of dark brown hair and almost black eyes. He wore a baggy t-shirt and khaki shorts which were faded and ripped in places, but what got Sansa’s attention was what the boy had in his hands; a shining toy knight complete with a magnificent-looking sword.</i></p>
<p> <br/> <br/><img/><img/>/><br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	Childhood Places

**Six**

 

The sky was bathed in a deep orange tinged with ripples of violet, the kind of colours that only came drifting in on the back of a lazy summer evening. Sansa walked along the dusty road surrounded by rows of sunflowers, her little legs walking with a confident sense of purpose. Just turned six years old she was beginning to discover the rich possibilities of the unknown and her longing for adventure was so strong that she had quietly slipped from the confines of her family’s garden not ten minutes ago in search of one. Sansa clutched her favourite doll in her hands, who wore an elegant pink dress and a fine golden tiara on her head. Holding her made Sansa feel as though she were a princess too, perhaps walking through the palace gardens after a busy day of eating lemon cakes.

Up ahead Sansa suddenly heard the sound of dogs barking and her steps faltered slightly. She was not too sure about dogs; they always seemed so unfriendly and snappy that she usually kept her distance. 

But a princess did not fear anything, so neither would Sansa. She pushed her long auburn hair off her shoulders and pretended a pretty cloak billowed behind her, which gave her courage. 

The rows of sunflowers soon stopped however and the grass slowly turned a desolate shade of brown the further down the road she went, with abandoned bits of scrap metal and junk lying half-buried beneath the dirt, enveloping any trace of green still left. 

Sansa had not been this far from home before and without the flowers for protection now, she suddenly felt a little uneasy. 

But then she saw a small house on one side of the road in front, past a couple of gnarled old trees. There was a boy sat on the dusty ground just outside of it, his head bent low in concentration over something. 

Curious, Sansa hesitantly walked up to him, still clutching her doll. Hearing her approaching footsteps, his head snapped up to see who it was, scowling. 

Sansa had not seen the boy before, he had a messy crop of dark brown hair and almost black eyes. He wore a baggy t-shirt and khaki shorts which were faded and ripped in places, but what got Sansa’s attention was what the boy had in his hands; a shining toy knight complete with a magnificent-looking sword.

The boy followed her gaze to the knight and he quickly put it behind his back. Sansa thought she saw an odd flash of fear in his eyes before it disappeared back beneath his scowl. 

Sniffing haughtily at his taking the toy away, Sansa feigned disinterest and turned her gaze to the mailbox that stood by the house. After a few moments of careful concentration she was able to read the word ‘Clegane’ on it and her eyebrows raised slightly as she realised whose home she was standing in front of.

“Are you that boy Gregor’s brother?” She asked, wide-eyed.

The boy looked down at his shoes and did not reply.

“He was in trouble before wasn’t he?” Sansa continued. “My daddy said he hurt one of the girls who lives near us.” 

“What’s that got to do with me?” The boy suddenly snapped, glaring at her.

His anger startled Sansa and she began to grow afraid until she saw tears beginning to form in the boy’s eyes and he angrily looked away. She felt a little sad for him.

She walked over slowly and sat in front of him, noticing again the ragged quality of his clothes. His hair looked as though it could do with a brush too.

That vulnerable air he had made Sansa want to befriend the boy. She wouldn’t have minded brushing his hair for him as she did for her older brother Robb, when he thought none of their other brothers were watching. 

Sansa held out her princess doll to show the peculiar boy. “Her name is Jonquil, she’s a princess. You can hold her if you like.”

The boy eyed her with suspicion, weighing up whether he could trust her or not, but his eagerness to look at the toy outweighed his mistrust and he took it from her quickly. 

“Do you like to play fairytales too?” Sansa asked, eagerly. 

“Yes,” said the boy, and while his voice was scratchy his tone was softer than she had expected. “I like the knights best.”

Sansa grinned, showing the little gap in between her two front teeth. “Me too! My name is Sansa, what’s yours?”

The boy looked surprised at her sudden interest. “Sandor,” he said.

Sansa put her head to one side. “That kind of sounds like my name- _San_ sa, _San_ dor.”

The boy coloured a little at this statement, but he gave her a timid smile and brought the knight from behind his back for her to see. 

They continued to play with their dolls for over an hour and Sansa was delighted at the amount of stories that Sandor could conjure up, rivalling even her own collection, while Sandor thought that he had never met anyone quite as nice as the funny girl with the red hair.

They had been playing out a scenario where the knight had to protect the princess from a group of nasty men, when suddenly there came a burst of noise from the other side of the yard as three large dogs came galloping towards them, barking loudly. 

Sansa yelped and grabbed Sandor’s arm.

“They’re only pups,” he said laughing, but he stood between her and the dogs, keeping one hand out to shield Sansa while he used the other to reach for the dogs who came bounding up to him and he patted their heads.

Sansa looked at them uncertainly. Up close they were indeed a lot smaller than they had first appeared, but she did not move from behind Sandor.

He looked round at her and grinned. “Don’t worry, they won’t hurt you.” He gently took hold of her arm and pulled her forward. She allowed one of the puppies to sniff her outstretched hand and to her delight he licked it. Sansa giggled and scratched the dog’s chin.

“What are their names?” Sansa asked, smiling.

Sandor shrugged. “Don’t have ‘em. Don’t need names, we know who they are and they know it too.”

Sansa puzzled over this statement, but continued to ruffle the dog’s sandy fur. The other two were a darker shade of brown, though their temperaments were much the same. She continued to play with the dogs, admiring their loyalty and ability to trust so quickly.

But then she heard a sharp intake of breath beside her and saw Sandor looking quickly around them, his eyes wide with terror.

“Where’s the knight?” He whispered.

His body suddenly jolted into action and he began desperately searching all around them, his hands blindly sweeping through the grass while his breathing became quick and ragged. 

Sansa was alarmed at his reaction, it was just a toy, why was he so afraid?

Thinking carefully, she looked around for what might have caused the toy’s disappearance and sure enough, one of the dogs had it under his paw and was sniffing it with interest.

She quickly plucked it from his grip and held it up for Sandor to see.

His whole body seemed to melt with relief, though he did not smile. He took it from her, awkwardly muttering a word of thanks before carefully placing it on the doorstep, ready to take inside. 

Although the episode had been brief, the image of the knight had marked a change in Sandor’s countenance from then on. He seemed jumpy and was constantly looking behind him. 

Eventually he turned to her.

“You should go,” he said, and Sansa could hear sadness in his voice beneath the barely concealed panic.

Sansa could not help but admit that his behaviour was starting to frighten her a little so she agreed that she would leave. She picked up her doll and began to walk back towards the road again but then something made her look back. 

Sandor’s arms were crossed, hugging himself and his eyes were watching her with such a sad loneliness that it made Sansa want to cry. 

Not wanting to see her new friend looking so upset, she walked back to him and, with the air of a true princess, curtsied to him.

Sandor gave a little smile and it broke into a laugh. Blushing, he lowered himself into a deep bow, took her hand and kissed it.

So happy at this small display of affection, Sansa wanted to repay it. She took a moment to think about what she was about to do, before she decided and held her doll out for him to take. 

“You can have her to play with,” she said.

Sandor gazed up at her with surprise and wonder. “Really?” He breathed.

“So you won’t be sad anymore,” she said softly.

Emotion filled his eyes and he held the doll to his chest protectively. “I’ll take care of her.”

Sansa smiled. “I know.”

 

*****

 

**Twelve**

 

Sansa hurried along the now very familiar path to Sandor’s house, surrounded by the sound of birds ushering in the new morning. Sandor had sounded so excited over the phone that she couldn’t wait to find out the source. 

She wondered what it could be, perhaps a toy knight of his own, or a new puppy. Sansa beamed at the thought, hoping it would be just as tiny as Sandor’s dogs had been when she met them all those years ago.

Her long legs felt light under her feet as she rounded the corner to see Sandor waiting impatiently in the yard for her. Sansa rushed towards him, breathless.

He was tall now and broad for his age, though his hair still looking as though it had never seen a hairbrush in its life.

Sandor scowled. “What took you so long?” 

Sansa sighed with a small smile at his usual rough manner of speaking, and simply took her time trying to get her breath back.

“Mum was a bit worried about me c-” but she stopped her speech in its tracks.

She could not tell him how anxious her parents were about the friendship she and Sandor had. While Sansa had repeatedly told them he was a nice boy and that he wouldn’t hurt her, they weren’t so sure, especially with his older brother’s growing reputation. 

Sandor never let her come round when Gregor was there anyway and Sansa was grateful for that, for herself but also for Sandor who always seemed so fearful of his older brother.

Sandor eyed her with suspicion for a moment at her hesitation, but shook his head with a smile, clearing his mind with the reason for her visit.

“Come with me,” he said, taking her arm.

He led her into his house, the familiar smell of wood and cigarettes greeting Sansa at the door. He motioned for her to be quiet and made his way upstairs. Sansa frowned, she had only been to Sandor’s room a few times before. His room was unusually bare for a child their age, the only decorations being the little knight figures he collected, though Sansa knew it was really the toy knight Gregor had that Sandor loved the most. 

Yet he didn’t take her to his room, instead turning right to face a door Sansa hadn’t seen behind very much as it was usually just a spare bedroom, but Sandor opened the door.  
The occasional box or stack of paper were scattered about the room, but what caught Sansa’s attention was what she recognised to be a crib. It looked old-fashioned and the wicker was a little worn and broken in places, but what lay inside took Sansa’s breath away.

Settled amongst faded golden blankets lay a small sleeping baby. It had a few black curls adorning its head and its eyelashes were long and dark. 

Sansa looked up at Sandor, who wore an affectionate smile as he watched the small baby sleep. 

“Ma gave birth to her a few days ago,” he whispered. 

Sansa looked down in wonder at the child. “What’s her name?”

“Elinor.”

“She’s lovely,” Sansa breathed.

At that moment the baby seemed to sense their presence and very slowly, opened her big dark eyes to gaze at them sleepily. She raised one arm up to Sandor, her little fist clenching and unclenching.

Sandor chuckled and gave the baby his finger. She took it greedily and popped it in her mouth, leaving behind a trail of saliva.

Sansa giggled and watched her friend wear such a look of happiness and love that Sansa found herself staring at him for a long time.

Eventually Sandor gently released Elinor’s grip on him and tucked her more securely inside the blankets. “We’ll let her sleep.”

They walked out together into the early morning sunshine and made their way down to their favourite hiding spot, which was located a little further down the road in one of the fields the Cleganes owned. It was a small yet very sturdy tree house that Sandor’s father had built it for his son a few years ago, without Gregor’s knowledge, and it provided them both with a safe refuge. 

Sansa was delighted when she had first seen it and had immediately set about making it more comfortable with cushions, books and blankets. She had seemed so at home among the trees that Sandor had called her ‘little bird’.

In order to get the tree-house, however, you had to pass an old unused out-building which was once owned by a local blacksmith. There wasn’t much in there anymore, but what was always visible from the path was a large brazier, which for some reason the sight of always made Sansa’s heart quicken.

Soon though they were both clambering up the old tree and sitting cross-legged in their den, looking out across the sun-soaked fields. Sansa pointed to the far off figures of Sandor’s three dogs racing and jumping through the long grass, chasing a small group of butterflies.

“I hope Elinor will be better behaved than Arya was,” Sansa said. “She certainly seemed it just now, Arya had started screaming from the moment she got home for the first time. She was a stubborn baby,” Sansa smiled, looked back fondly at the memory of her feisty little sister. 

She remembered how her parents had called Arya their wolf girl because of the way she had howled all night.

“I reckon Elinor’ll be a real lady when she’s older,” Sandor chuckled. “Her eyes will make everyone love her.”

“How does it feel to be an older brother?” Sansa asked.

She had meant the question kindly but Sandor’s expression froze and his hand clenched. For a moment he stayed completely still and Sansa grew worried. 

But then he turned to look at her with a resolute expression.

“I’ll be the best damn older brother she could ever have,” he said defiantly, a shine of emotion in his eyes.

“Like a knight protecting a princess,” Sansa grinned.

Sandor nodded vigorously. 

Sansa took his hand and his fingers entwined with hers. 

 

*****


End file.
